


Overture

by brokenkakugan



Series: Sitting in the Fire [1]
Category: Homestuck, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Gen, Ghoulstuck, Homestuck AU, Twin Striders, alpha dave/ dirk's bro is damien, ghoul cannibalism actually, tgstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenkakugan/pseuds/brokenkakugan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The door to their room is ajar. Why is it open? Is your mother in there? Please, God, please let Mom be in there. Please, don’t let it be Damien, don’t let that monster be in there with them. You silently pray to whatever being listening that your father isn’t in that room with the twins.</p>
<p>You stumble into the door roughly and it moves backward into the room and your blood is already pounding in your skull. Damien is standing next to one of the bed, clutching one of the crying babies tightly, holding him to his face. </p>
<p>“What...no…” you rasp. “Nononono don’t touch them!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overture

**Author's Note:**

> overture - (noun) an introduction to something more substantial
> 
> Heed the warnings; mentions of child abuse and cannibalism ahead.

You’re awoken by the sound of the babies crying. It doesn’t even register in your sleep-deadened mind at first, just background noise to the otherwise silent house. When your brain is something closer to being awake, you arch your back off the bed, stretching, and you try to rub the heaviness from your eyes. It’s morning, you assume, and the twins must be fussing for their breakfast. They’re always the first ones to wake up.

 

You nearly pull a muscle from jumping so hard when you hear a loud, high-pitched shriek from the twins’ room. You’re instantly up, staggering in the darkness, body still not ready to be in full motion.

 

The door to their room is ajar. Why is it open? Is your mother in there? Please, God, please let Mom be in there. Please, don’t let it be Damien, don’t let that monster be in there with them. You silently pray to whatever being listening that your father isn’t in that room with the twins.

 

You stumble into the door roughly and it moves backward into the room and your blood is already pounding in your skull. Damien is standing next to one of the bed, clutching one of the crying babies tightly, holding him to his face.

 

“What...no…” you rasp. “ _Nononono don’t touch them!_ ”

 

He’s going to eat them he’s going to consume his own children his own flesh and blood he’s going to _fucking eat them oh my God._

 

Your eyes are just beginning to darken as Damien slowly turns to face you, his teeth bared in a menacing snarl. You’re thankful for the lack of blood on his lips. A growl rips from your throat; you’re both dissolving into wild animals, one protecting food, the other protecting young.

 

You’re barely aware of your kagune as the wings begin to bubble up from your shoulder blades, unfurling into shining feathers. They stretch to their full length, a staggering nine feet, even though you’re only sixteen and brimming with youth and hormones.

 

The baby in Damien’s grasp, you’re not even sure which one it is, is squirming, trying to get away from what he can already sense at a young age is something dangerous, predatory, something that can kill him. Tears of panic and fear stream in thin rivers down his face in the dark room.

 

“Put him down, put him down _right fucking now._ I will fucking kill you don’t think I won’t, **don’t think I won’t kill a goddamn monster like you!** ” Now you’re lunging at your father, the man who put you through years and years of torture and pain, the man who scarred you in way you’re not even aware of. The scarring he inflicted on you won’t be evident until you’re an adult and long gone from his life and his stranglehold on you. He’s ruined your life and and the life of the twins.

 

Your lunge nearly causes Damien to drop the wriggling baby. You snatch the baby from his hands, accidently rougher than you should have been. Bruising will start to show up later, his small abdomen turning a deep, sickening purple. You’ll see it later on and feel horrible and whisper your apologies, apologies that won’t matter to a two year old with a sore stomach. The apologies will be more for your sake than anything, really.

 

You set the whining baby back in his bed,as gentle and as quickly as you can manage. You’re trembling with rage and panic and fear and you feel fucking sick and your blood is making your skull throb painfully. Growls roll from your throat as you turn back to your father, who has backed off to the middle of the room, his own eyes black and his small wings rippling in a red fire behind him. He’s in a defensive stance, ready for you to charge him. You want to rip his face off, the sink your nails into that gorgeous skin and to tear it away from the bones and muscles and cartilage; you want his blood on your hands and his flesh between your teeth. But, you’re terrified on this man. He holds so much power over you; you’ve been conditioned and groomed by him, into what he wants you to be, into something he can use. Puberty and hormones made you aggressive and rebellious, yet you still tremble in his presence, even though you’re almost the same height as him now, even though your ukaku are bigger than his now, even though you will be bigger than him when you’re an adult and fully grown.

 

He moves away from you now, toward the door, backing down. He’s infuriated by you, your massive wingspan, your continual growth in height, your aggression and rebellion, your ability to think for yourself and fight back. You’ve practically given him a complex. His wings have receded now, barely visible around his broad shoulders. He holds your stare in the darkness, and closes the door once he’s in the hallway.

 

Your muscles are so tightly wound that when you finally relax you feel like you might fall to the floor. You’re shaking even harder now, lowering yourself down quietly to the carpet. Your eyes burn, sharp and hot. Your blood hasn’t stopped throbbing wildly.

 

You’re not leaving the babies, not ever, you decide. Not tonight, not tomorrow, never. You’ll protect them with your life. You’ll take them with you, when you leave. You’ll raise them on your own, teach them how to survive and fight. Maybe, you’ll be able to raise them to be stronger than you, able to kill Damien.

 

You’re exhausted now; you’re bringing the twins with you tomorrow, when you leave this hellhole. You’ll pack everything you can carry. You don’t know where you’re going, where you’re taking two baby ghouls, you don’t know where you’ll stay or how you’ll survive. You don’t even know how you’ll hide their eyes. All you’re sure of is that you and the twins are leaving, leaving before they have to suffer the same upbringing you did, leaving before your father corrupts or consumes them.

 

You feebly crawl across the floor to their beds, and reach up to one of the whimpering boys, smoothing your palm down his soft blond hair in what you hope to be a comforting motion. His anxious breathing calms to a more even pattern as his tiny hand wraps around your wrist, trying to soothe himself.

 

You ache all over and wish you had never been born.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to JD  
> you sleepless dickplant


End file.
